Blaise tries to cleanse some of The Fog

[21:26:14] Blaise Mistwalker slowly unslings her bag from her shoulder as she enters the circle, breathing a little too heavily. It had been much too long since she'd actually made a trek like that and she was paying for it now. Dropping her bag next to the log by the fire, she slowly paces, trying to regain her composure and slow her heart rate and breathing. "Getting.. too.. old.. for this shit.." she mutters to herself, and finally succumbs to bending forward with her hands braced on her thighs.

[21:32:45] Blaise Mistwalker straightens up after her little rest and stretches a bit, rubbing the small of her back, and the back of one thigh. "Think the stupid mountain got steeper," she mumbles, then breathes out deeply and moves back to her bag, rummaging through it. Once she has what she was looking for in hand, she steps toward the fire and loosens the drawstrings of the pouch. "I call upon the Element of Earth, Watchtower of Strength. Please hear me." Reaching into the pouch, she pulls a small bit of sand out and sprinkles it North of the fire. "I call upon the Element of Air. Watchtower of Inspiration. Please hear me." Again reaching into the pouch, she pulls a small reed out and, stepping toward the East edge of the fire, blows softly upon it, so that a faint sound echoes around her. She replaces the read in the bag and moves once more around the fire, toward the South.

[21:47:02] Blaise Mistwalker reaches into her pouch and pulls out a strike anywhere match. "I call upon the Element of Fire, Watchtower of Passion. Please hear me." Striking the match with her thumbnail, she lets it burn down her fingertips before tossing it into bonfire. Letting out another slow, deep breath, she finally moves to the West edge of the fire and retrieves a small vial of water from the pouch. "I call upon the Element of Water, Watchtower of Introspection. Please hear me." Pushing the stopper out of the vial, she lets it slowly pour to the ground. The elements were definitely listening, the air charged with a feeling sort of like being watched; it was as though everything around her were holding its breath, waiting for what she'd called them all to attention about. "I call upon the Element of Spirit, Watchtower of All. Please hear me," she finally whispers, then sucks in a sharp breath as the entire circle /zings/ with energy and closes itself off from outside influence. Letting all her air out in a big whooshing gush, she takes a few steps back toward her bag and drops the pouch, not concerned for the moment with ensuring everything is put away.

[21:54:35] Blaise Mistwalker mouths a few words before she realizes her voice forgot to chime in, then clears her throat and starts over. "Guardians hear me, I beg of you. The ancient entity has returned, whatever it is in its truest form. We've always called it 'The Fog'. I had a part in its last awakening but I can't bear to see it happen again. I learned my lesson, last time. Help me cleanse the negativity. Help me abate its influence. Our source of power is dead and we have nothing to help us combat it. For all I know, the Fog is what killed the Source, and that's probably my fault. People are dying again, though. The mountain and woods feel so wrong, so very wrong. The animals are starting to try and flee." She stares out across the forest, swallowing the lump that's forming in her throat before even attempting to continue.

[22:03:19] Blaise Mistwalker swallows hard again and breathes out huskily. "But someone needs to do something to stop this, before its too late. Moxxi spoke with some of the wolves.. I need to meet with them as well to try and flesh out some details. Make plans. I'm hoping that if we can work together, we can make a dent in all this. I don't know how many fae are on the island, or vampires. I'm not really holding my breath that they'd help though. But if they will, then maybe we can really do something. Regardless.." she trails off and frowns some, then shakes her head at herself. "Help me cleanse as much of the Fog's influence as I can. Help me make amends for my past wrong-doings. Let me be a tool through which you can spread /your/ influence, and balance out the energy here on this god forsaken island."

[22:12:14] Blaise Mistwalker spreads her hands at her sides and closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and with it, energy from the circle called. She feels the rumble of earth beneath her feet, the rush of wind blowing down from the mountains; the roar and crackle of the fire, and the swell and crash of the ocean. It pours into her, and with a gasp, out of her, extending out from the circle in a faint wave of energy. She loses herself then, and for the time being ceases to exist as Blaise. There is only the eternal symphony of the elements, pouring out across the island. It's not enough to cleanse the Fog entirely, or even mostly, but it's enough to give a soft scrubbing to the negativity. The fog lessens a bit in patches, softens. It becomes less dense, less abrasive. It takes a while, but she stands there like that for nearly forty-five minutes, channeling the elements and letting them pour through her, before she finally collapses into a heap on the ground and passes out, small streams of blood running in rivulets from one nostril and her right ear.

[22:28:18] Blaise Mistwalker doesn't come to for quite some time; it takes her a few hours at the very least. When she does rouse, she rolls herself over gingerly. Every inch of her body aches, most of it actually throbs. Her head is pounding, and her vision is blurred. Oh, her glasses fell off. She gropes around near her head until she manages to find them, and with a wince, slides them into place and waits for things to quit spinning. She lies there like that, listening to the bonfire crackle and hiss behind her; the bonfire that never seems to go out. Finally feeling a little more like herself, she eases to a sitting position. She remains like that for a time, then carefully braces her hands on the ground and pushes to her feet as slowly as possible. Her balance is off, equilibrium a bit messed up, but somehow she manages to keep herself upright. Moving at a snail's pace, she gathers the items from her pouch that didn't quite get put away, tucks everything into her bag, and with great effort, begins heading back down out of the mountains.